Leaves fell on this wet autumn morn, and the library was in a festive mood. A large number of new books had been brought in, mostly by queer authors. To say that the new wing would be focused on gender would be something of an understatement; it would catch the general drift, but not convey the magnitude of the tornado about to hit the readership. There was a theme, and there was a lot of it.

Detractors called it the gay wing; the bureaucracy had a far less inspiring name in mind. But one sneaky librarian had gone the extra length of acquiring a plus-sized copy of the Gay Science, to be featured prominently at the fore on this opening day.

The mood was somber, yet strangely cheerful. Funerals are seldom merry occasions, but this one was something close to it. There are tragic deaths where everything just stops, where those left behind have to rebuild their lives in toto ex post facto. Then, there are less dramatic deaths, where everyone involved saw it coming and had made their peace with it before it happened. Both are losses, but the latter seemed the proper way to go. There is a dignity to it, of knowing how to live and how to die, and how to proceed from there.

The room was somber, but there were also laughs. Somehow, the two went together. Remembering the one who passed also meant remembering all the shenanigans he had been involved in over his many years, and the retelling could only be a source of merriment for those who remembered. More so for those who only just now found out.

She was the bringer of good news. The hospital also had a bringer of bad news, but she was not it. Bringing good news is very different from bringing bad news, and she had only learnt how to bring the good ones. So she did. She made the calls to inform that, yes, he had survived, yes, it was a girl, yes, everything went fine, she should be up and about before anyone knew it. It was good news, and it was hard work.

More than once she had been reprimanded for being more of a messenger of hope than a hospital employee, and more than once the good fortune had changed. Nothing was certain, until it was.

But. Someone had to share the good news when there was any. She was that someone. Of this, at least, she was certain.

After the news of the breakup had broken, a surprising number of concerned friends had shown up to offer condolences and emotional support. As breakups go, it wasn’t a bad one. Sometimes, these things just do not work, and when both parties agree about it, breaking up is just the proper thing to do. But the sheer amount of friends made him feel like a traffic cop from those old movies – move along, nothing to see here, circulate.

While he was touched and moved by the sheer volume of emotional disaster preparedness displayed, he was also struck by how misdirected it was. Somewhere in his mind was a suspicion that he might be conflating needing and deserving, but, for the time being, he had more pressing concerns. What did you even do with half a dozen casseroles?